


Spark to Ignite

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: In the Dark [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Hallucinations, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Destruction, Sensory Deprivation, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8522425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: Part of a prompt exchange with VelkynKarma.Shiro wakes up in the dark.He is alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VelkynKarma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelkynKarma/gifts).



> Beta'd by the wonderful Mumblefox, who I cannot thank enough.
> 
> VelkynKarma's exchange is called "The Nature of Leadership" and you should go read it and gasp with delight like I did!

Shiro had no idea where he was.

This was for a couple of reasons.

The first being that the last thing Shiro remembered was heading down a hallway to find Allura.  He’d heard something behind him crackle, and before he could turn around and react properly, there had been pain and he’d blacked out.

That was bad enough.

The second being that it was utterly dark and quiet wherever Shiro had woken up.  And that his clothing had been changed into some kind of uniform, and that it was cold and the walls were small and metal, and that he had no way of keeping track of what was around him.

Whenever he started to flashback, or in the aftermath, Shiro had developed a habit of reminding himself of what he saw and where he was.  It didn’t always help, but at least listing off objects in the castle gave him some kind of grasp on what had happened since escaping.

This place offered no such comfort.

Any kind of light would have helped.  Shiro tried to light up his hand almost immediately, because even if it was dangerous in close quarters, it was better than the dark unknown.

But it hadn’t turned on, not even a hum or a spark.  Shiro could feel it responding to him like normal, the would-be muscles tensing and relaxing and palm outstretching in the way that activated it.

This time, nothing happened. And when he ran his fingers over his arm in utter confusion, he felt something clipped around his wrist.  It gave off no light and no noise, but it seemed it completely prevented his metal arm from being a weapon.

In any other situation, Shiro would appreciate that.

“Hello?” He tried.  It wasn’t the first time.

At first, Shiro hadn’t wanted to say anything.  He thought it was some kind of attack and that he’d been kidnapped.  So he had paced the length of the room several times instead, touching over everywhere methodically, trying to find something.  Anything.  A handle, a grate, a ledge.  Something to get a feel for the room other than darkness.

Shiro didn’t even find the door.

It reminded him of the dark, small cell Haggar had thrown in him more than anything.

The memory made his stomach churn.  And that was when Shiro started to talk.  He hadn’t heard any voices in return yet.

“Why am I here?”  Shiro asked, sitting down and slumping against the wall.  He closed his eyes, because then he could pretend the dark was his choice, instead of his reality.  “What do you _want_?”

The walls didn’t answer.  His own voice didn’t even echo, as though the sound was absorbed completely by the inky blackness.

Sighing, Shiro tapped his fingers against the floor.  But it was with his Galra hand, and the familiar mechanical noises were so loud in the otherwise quiet room.

So he stopped and just listened instead.

***

After the first hour or so passed (maybe?), Shiro started to really worry.

He had no idea what had happened to him, and therefore no idea what had happened to the others.  Were they captured too?  Did they get out?  Were they okay?

He spent a good while staying as still and quiet as he could, trying desperately to hear anything that suggested they were near him.

Then Shiro started to try himself.

 

“Keith?”  He called, at first quiet, but gaining volume quickly.  “Pidge?  Lance?  Hunk?”  He cycled through them each a few times, then tried Allura and Coran.

Nothing.  Not even the bounce back of his own voice.

As far as he knew, he could be inches from them, and he wouldn’t be able to tell.

The image of his team, trapped in a little room like this and calling for help, haunted him.  He couldn’t imagine any of them dealing with it well.  Allura and Coran would be uncomfortable, but they would survive.  They could deal with stillness and quiet, when needed.

But Shiro couldn’t imagine how the others would feel.  None of them were fundamentally still people, active in their unique ways.  And just the idea of them in the dark, thinking they were alone, scared and confused like he was...

“Let me out!” He yelled, kicking the wall.  The impact jolted through thim, and Shiro stepped back away, wincing.  “Don’t you dare hurt them!  Where are they?”

There was no response.

There was no one there, and if there was, they couldn’t hear him.

And even if they did, they wouldn’t care.  

No guards ever minded his screaming, after all.  Shiro had learned that the hard way.

***

Eventually, Shiro started to drift.

There was nothing else to do in the room.  He’d walked the perimeter again and again until he lost track of how many times, and he was no closer to escaping or understanding where he was.  If anything, the repetition was starting to blur his memories, making it difficult to remember how long he’d spent here, and how many times he’d done this.

It had certainly been a few hours, but there was no way for Shiro to be more certain than that.  From the way he was starting to flag, he’d think it had to be evening now, but on the other hand, there was nothing to keep him awake and attentive.  It could be his usual exhaustion catching up to him, now that he didn’t have anything to distract himself with.

But sleeping was a bad idea.  Sleeping meant dreams, and if Shiro woke up in the pitch black...

Well, he didn’t want to think about it.

So instead he stood up again, his natural hand pressed lightly against the wall.  He’d long since given up hope of finding anything.  By now, he’d gone over every inch within his reach, including pressing a foot to the wall and pushing up to see if he could reach the ceiling.  Which he could not.  But it was more comforting to be touching something than nothing.

And then he started to talk.  Or, more specifically, he started to count.

Shiro started from one corner, and when he hit all four, spoke in shaky, unsure Altean.  Out of curiosity, he’d started to pick up very basic bits, like counting to 100 or the colors of the lions.  It was something to keep himself occupied, and Allura or Coran were always eager to teach anyone their language.  
All the less chance of it going extinct, after all.  Even if it was just a few stray, lonely words.

Obsessively, Shiro’s mind returned to the situation, scrambling for something he could do about it. There were no restraints to break out of, nothing to climb to escape, no door to bust down, no guards to time.  There was just his own steps and his own thoughts and nothing, nothing else.

There was nothing here.

And that made Shiro useless.

***

Inevitably, Shiro began to doze.

It was only a matter of time before he ran out of numbers.  He started to count in Japanese, next, just for the sound of it.  To remind him of Earth.  But even that tapered off, from sheer boredom and exhaustion.

How long had it been?  He was so tired.  Normally he wasn’t this bad until he’d been up for days.

He slumped down the wall, head back, opening and closing his eyes.  He tried to find anything to distinguish them except the sensation of movement.

In the end, he only managed to confuse himself about whether his eyes were open or closed.  Eventually, he had to reach up and feel his eyelids to make sure.

When the metal hand touched the delicate skin of his face, he jumped.  It was freezing.  The room was that cold?  He hadn’t noticed.

Flopping sideways onto the ground, Shiro curled up on himself.  The clothes were thin and had only one layer, offering no warmth.  There was obviously no bed, and no softer area of the floor, so Shiro had no choice but to just pick a spot and lay there.

He had better keep track, because soon he was going to have to take care of other needs.

For now, escape was off the table.  Until something changed, he was trapped.  There were no guards to dodge here, or even to pay attention to.  No trip to the ring and back to make notes and understand the ship.  No being dragged out for promotions, or for experiments, or just for the Galra to brag.

He ached.  He ached from the cold, from the shivers that had begun to wrack his body.  He ached from his arm, heavy and pulling, always always always.  He ached from the fight earlier, from the blow to his back.  He always ached.

Shiro didn’t remember all the reasons why he ached.

***

He needn’t have worried about falling asleep.  Because he couldn’t.

The cold had definitely gotten worse.  At least, Shiro thought so.  It had crawled into his skin like a living thing, burrowing in and sapping any heat left.  It was impossible to relax enough to sleep like this, when he was shivering so hard.  Every second-minute-hour-day it seemed to get worse, and if he could have seen, he was positive his breath would be fogging.

He put his hand in front of his face, just to test.  But if it did fog, he couldn’t feel it.

By now, his jaw ached to the bone from how hard he was chattering.  And when he clenched his teeth to fight it, it only caused terrible little vibrations, and didn’t help with the pain at all.  Eventually, he pressed his tongue between his teeth, just to be able to relax more.

Almost immediately, he felt his tongue crack.

How long had it been since he’d had anything to drink?

How long had he been here?

And, he tried to stop thinking about it, but...

What had happened to everyone else?

No, he had to imagine they had gotten out.  Had to imagine they were safe, that they weren’t like him.  They didn’t deserve this, and there was nothing he could do about it.  So they got out.  They got out, they got out, _they got out_.

He had to believe that, or else he’d lose his mind completely.

***

“Are you trying to kill me?  Why not just do it?”

There was no answer.

***

He knew that just because he was awake, didn’t mean he was mentally there.

(Where was there?  Was there here?  Where was here?)

But now Shiro learned that just because he was awake, didn’t mean he wasn’t dreaming.

(Was he dreaming?  Which was real?  How could he tell?)

The darkness wasn’t consistent.  It was shapes and shadows, constantly moving and overlapping and shifting.

It was forms reaching out, hands with clawed tips and the hint of yellow in the corner of his eye, gone before he turned around.  It was thunder in the distance, loud enough he could nearly feel it in his chest, transforming into the roar of the crowd.  It was the brush of a cloak against the back of his legs.

The darkness wasn’t four walls of a small room.  It had become the table in the lab, or the antechamber before being sent into the arena.  It was his cell after Matt was gone, surrounded by unknowable alien chatter and the creaking groans of a ship in space.

Or maybe it had always been those places.  Maybe he’d never left.

Groaning, Shiro rolled onto his back.  It wasn’t real.  It wasn’t real at all, he knew that.  He was... he was...

He was on... hell if he remembered the planet’s name.  It had been nearly impossible to pronounce in the first place.  And he’d ended up here because....

He didn’t know.

It was hard to remember, when he’d blink and see the purple lights of the lab above him.

“No,” he murmured, rough and breathy, nearly unrecognizable.  Or was that him?  Could he even tell what was his own voice anymore?  Was he sure?  He heard whispers and cheers; was it another hallucination?

Was any of it a hallucination?

He was so, so tired.

***

At one point, he thought he heard voices.  Ones he didn’t recognize.  He heard the word murder, he heard the word traitor, he heard the word killer.

He didn’t know if it was real.  Because he was all those things in the dark and out of it.

***

“Shiro!”

He sat up suddenly, his head spinning with the sudden move.  “Keith?”

“Shiro!”

Standing, Shiro wavered on his feet.  “Lance!  Where are you?”

“Shiro!”

Hunk sounded so scared, like he was crying. Shiro whirled in confused circles, but he couldn’t tell where the voices were coming from.

“Shiro!”

Choking back a sob of frustration, Shiro stepped forward into the inky darkness after Pidge’s voice.  “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he called, his own voice shaking.  He had to find them, he had to.  Where were they?  He could hear them calling, begging him for help.

“It hurts.”

“We need you.”

“I can’t get out.”

“Why aren’t you helping?”

“Why did you leave us?”

Shiro’s breath came in wet gulps as he shook his head in denial.  He hadn’t left them.  He was trying.  But not hard enough, because they needed him and he was in this stupid room and he was failing them again.  And he wasn’t allowed to fail them, he’d made that promise early on, that he’d make sure they got out.  That he’d protect them.

Why wasn’t he protecting them?”

_“Shiro!”_

Lashing out, Shiro hit the wall with his metal arm, trying to break it down and get to his team.  They needed him, why wasn’t he helping?  He couldn’t fail this team.  Not after last time.

His arm hit the wall with a painfully loud crack.  The sudden noise deafened him for just a moment, and the voices fell silent. Shiro crashed to the ground, his metal arm clutched instinctively in his other hand.  He could feel a dent along the side, from the pinky to the wrist.

And the voices stayed quiet.

A hallucination.  He’d been hallucinating them.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t happening, though.  It didn’t mean they were safe.

No, nonono.  They had gotten out.   _They had gotten out._

But what if they hadn’t?

When Shiro reached up to brush any dirt off his face, he realized his cheeks were wet with tears.

For all the good that did him.

***

He’d gone without food for this long before, mostly in the beginning of his captivity, when he rebelled at every turn.  They thought making him lean would make him more vicious.  They wanted their kills.

He’d never gone this long without water before.

He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t kill for it, if it came to that.

But Shiro would probably just die.

***

Eventually, he didn’t just see the visions of hands.  He felt them, running the tip of the long nails along his cheek, down to his jaw.  A line down his chest, like they were deciding where they’d cut him open, where the next part of him would be ripped out and replaced with a metal weapon.

When he held his arms up, he could see them both.  They were both human.  They were natural.

But he knew what came next.

When the hands reached out next, they held down his right arm, and a metal blade above him gleamed purple in the lights.

(It wasn’t real it wasn’t real it wasn’t real it wasn’t real)

That didn’t stop him from feeling it.

***

The main difference was that Shiro could move around.  Originally he’d been strapped in, but now he could stand and walk around.  He could pick things up and look from different angles.  The hallucination changed and altered with him, the druids watching and adapting.

But he couldn’t stop Haggar.  He knew that, deep in his bones.  Haggar was more powerful, and she’d win every single time.  In the end, all that would happen would be more wounds, more pain, more parts of him replaced with something shiny and cold and awful.

Reaching with his natural hand, he ran his palm from the elbow to the wrist, feeling his right arm.  The metal was freezing to the touch, and running over the details made his hand throb painfully from touching something so cold.

(Or was that just another hallucination)

But he could feel the arm.  He could see it (it was dark but he could see it, just like he could see the lab, he could see everything, the details of his arm were burned perfectly into the backs of his eyelids).

“You’ll be our greatest weapon,” Haggar told him.  Had told him.  Told him again now, whispered behind him, eyes hidden but her smirk openly displayed.

The Champion was useful.  The Champion was a symbol, a status, entertainment.  But being the Champion wasn’t like it was now.

“You’re a favorite.  We can’t have you out for long.  You’ll be back soon.”

So amused at his fear, at his pain.  Excited for her experiments, gleeful for the opportunity.

In the dusky lights of the lab, Shiro’s metal hand gleamed, wet and red.  He wiped at his palm, but there was always more blood underneath.

Whose blood was this?  He’d killed so many, whose-

The image of Matt, scared and wounded, came to mind.

Shiro’s stomach turned.  He shook his head hard, but he couldn’t shake the image.

So he did the cowardly thing and looked away instead.  He stared down at his arm, still trying to wipe it clean.  It was an impossible task, and he didn’t know why he tried.

This was what they wanted.  The Champion was useful, but not worth pursuing across a universe.  But this was.  Their weapon was worth all that effort.

So Shiro wasn’t going to let them have it.

He could see the lab, could hear it, could taste it on his tongue.

But the room was ten paces long.  He’d counted it off, over and over and over and over.

So Shiro paced forward until he came to a stop, counting out all ten when he couldn’t tell if he’d hit a wall or not.  And then he struck with all his might.

The metal hand bounced off, arching up his arm with the strength of the impact.  He stumbled back a step, gasping as the vibrations of it channeled up his chest.

But it made a loud noise, and it made a physical impression.  And it let him know he was right about where the wall was.

Shiro grinned, then wound up again and _hit_.  This time he was more prepared for the blowback, so he didn’t move.  

It hurt.  The impact hurt, and the jarring hurt his shoulders, and the vibrations made his chest ache.  But it was different from the way his muscles protested his constant shivering, and different from the feel of a knife pulling back his flesh, so he’d goddamn take it.

Each time he struck, it was a rebellion.  It was spitting in the face of Haggar and Zarkon and all their plans for Shiro.  And it was a way of regaining reality, of looking into the dark and seeing the room and not a lab.

With a shaky, wild laugh, he started to count in Altean again, listening with his eyes closed.  He could hear the crunch and give of the metal, hear the screech of it as it scraped against the hard, cold walls.  Hear the tiny clicks and clangs as parts started to break off and fall to the ground, collecting around him.

Good.  Let it break.  Let it go to _hell,_ along with everything else the Galra had touched and destroyed.

Shiro was already there.  It might as well join the fucking party.

Eventually, it failed to respond anymore, and Shiro swung his shoulders to keep trying.  But by that point, entire chunks had been broken off, and whatever balanced the extra weight wasn’t working anymore.  So he slid down the wall and breathed deeply.

Somehow, he felt lighter.  Physically.

Probably because he was.  He’d no doubt knocked off several pounds with that.

Letting out a laugh that was more than slightly hysterical, Shiro relaxed.

He didn’t sleep.  He couldn't sleep, between the shivers of cold and the shakes of adrenaline.

But Shiro still grinned.

Now he and the stupid arm matched.

***

It wasn’t until later that he started to really hurt.

When he next shook himself into semi-consciousness, Shiro reached over and started to gently touch over his arm.  Because sounds had helped before, he started to talk to himself.  And once again, his voice sounded strange to his ears, rough and ragged.  Like he’d broken that too.

He had done a lot of screaming.  Maybe that wasn’t so surprising.

“Huh.  Gone, huh?”  He ran his natural hand over each finger, finding where they had broken off or had been ripped away entirely.  The fist had taken the worst of it, being the initial point of contact, and it wouldn’t respond to him at all.  Activating it, even without the remains of the lockdown bracelet still on him, was totally impossible.

Good.  It had been useful before, but he was going to die here, and now it was useful for no one.  They’d never ever ever ever get their fucking weapon.  He wasn’t their weapon.  He’d been their Champion and he wouldn’t be anything else for them.  He’d be dead instead.

Good.  “Good.”  He laughed, breathless and wild and crazed.  “Good riddance.”

The forearm had fared better, he thought, but only by comparison.  Parts of it had twisted and buckled, and he could hear the whirring a lot louder than he ever had.  Likely, that was partially due to the quiet, but also because it wasn’t muffled by the casing anymore.  It split open and gaped in places, and when Shiro stuck a curious finger inside, he could feel the vibrations and movements as it tried to continue to function.

That was when the pain really hit.

“Fuck!”  He yanked his hand away hard enough that he lost his balance, crashing down onto the pieces of his arm.  The slight jolt of going from sitting to lying down sent another spike of hellish pain through him, and for a long time, Shiro could only sob through it.

It was only then that it really registered that it wasn’t only metal in there.  Parts of him were inside as well.  He’d known it intellectually, and he hadn’t wanted to think about it.  But he’d smashed the hell out of his arm while there were still nerves inside, and it seemed like he’d exposed something.

Groaning again, Shiro pushed himself up with his natural hand.  He barely had the strength, and his mouth and throat nearly hurt worse than the rest of him.  Both had cracked several times over, and when Shiro concentrated, he could taste blood.

“Doesn’t matter, does it?  Just won’t poke anything else.  Screw it.”  He closed his eyes, then huffed.  “Stupid dark.”

Shiro sighed, just to hear the noise of it.  “Should get up.  Walking was better.”  When he had counted off his laps, that had been probably the most there he’d been the whole time.  But that wasn’t happening anymore. He didn’t have the strength for it, and even if he did, he wasn’t sure he could keep his balance.  By now the shakes were so bad he could barely keep still, much less move with anything resembling grace.

“Still worth it,” he decided.  “Fuck you all.”

***

Voices.  Voices again.  Why were they back? Shiro had been talking. It wasn’t their turn.

It was voices he knew, too.  Voices he loved, muffled and far away.  Voices Shiro didn’t want to hear turned against him in this nightmare darkness again.  The first time had been so bad.  He couldn’t do this anymore. “No,” he moaned, shaking his head.  “No, I don’t want that.  Please, I don’t.”

Haggar was a hell he knew how to take.  It would kill him someday, but he could manage it in the moment.

He knew that hearing the other paladins turn against him, hating him, would destroy him more completely than Haggar could ever manage.  Already he could see Lance’s fear of his arm and Pidge’s cold hatred, both memories from the beginning that made his stomach turn and his muscles lock up.

Because he deserved it.  They didn’t know what he was.  They let him stay because they were ignorant that Champion really meant Monster.

And now he’d failed them again.  What was wrong with him, that he could never protect his team?

“No no no,” Shiro murmured, shaking his head and curling up in himself, legs up to his chest and face buried in his knees.

The wall in front of him seemed to crack, and light showed through as a hole the general shape of a door lifted out and away.

He’d been doing better, he was seeing the dark, why was this happening?  “No!  No no.”

God, this time it _hurt._  The light burned his eyes like acid, even with his face buried, and he curled himself tighter, trying to avoid it.

And this time the noises were so loud that they made Shiro’s head throb.

“Shiro?”  Lance called, and Shiro tensed and considered covering his ears, trying to block it all out before he could begin.  He didn’t want this, he couldn’t take it, why couldn’t he just sleep and not wake up?  Why didn’t they just shoot him and get it over with?  Being dead would be so much easier than this.  “Shiro, buddy, I’m sorry we took so long, we’re getting you out now.”

A pause, waiting for a response.  Shiro didn’t reply to the hallucination’s questions, just continued to murmur ‘no’ to himself.

There were footsteps.  “God, it’s dark in here.  Are you sure he’s- oh. Shiro?”  Pidge, this time.  “Are you-”  Another step, this time clicking oddly.  There was the sound of the paladin armor clacking on itself as Pidge moved, and then something like metal. _“Shiro?”_

And Shiro was just helpless to that.  There was a lot he could take, but he couldn’t ignore the sounds of one of his Paladins being scared.  It wasn’t in him.  Even knowing it was just another way for this room to torture him.  So he looked up, then flinched anew at the bright light.  It was too much, and he clapped his hand over his eyes to try and block it out, but even through his closed lids and hand, he could still see the light, like blood red needles.

“What happened?” Hunk asked, sounding completely devastated.

Despite knowing it was a hallucination, Shiro’s breath hitched.  “Sorry,” he muttered, tucking the ruined remains of his arm into his chest.  “I’m sorry, I-”

There was a furious growl, and Shiro flinched from it.  Oh no, no, it was happening, that was Keith.  Shiro had always tried so hard to be there for Keith, to help him and make him feel like someone was in his corner.  Shiro couldn’t take his hatred, even hallucinated.  But he’d failed Keith, so he deserved this.  He just didn’t want it.

But Keith didn’t yell at Shiro.  If anything, he got more muffled.  “What did you _do_ to him?” He snarled, vicious like an animal, and there was the crack of his bayard activating.

“Keith, stop!”  Allura snapped, enough authority in her voice that Shiro straightened, despite not being the focus of it.  

Something touched the metal arm, and Shiro jolted in surprise, his scream catching in his cracked and dried throat.  He scrambled away blindly.

Hunk gasped, then let out a breathy noise like a sob.  “No, Shiro, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.  I just wanted to look.  What happened?”

“They hurt him!  They said they just put him in the cell,” Keith yelled back at Allura.

“We did nothing to him!”  insisted a voice Shiro recognized, but only vaguely, distantly.  From something a while ago, or maybe recently.  “We just put him in this container.  We even took down the temperature to encourage hibernation.  He was supposed to sleep the whole time.”

Wait.  Wait, Shiro did know the voice.  It was the one who had been showing him around the planet, at one point.  The people who looked like pill bugs, with heavy armor and the ability to curl up on themselves and roll around.

“Humans don’t do that,” Pidge responded, voice so icy Shiro shivered again.  “The cold hurts us.  And that doesn’t explain his arm.  What did you do?”

The alien made a frustrated clicking noise.  “No one has been inside the room at all.  You can check our records!”

“Like we trust your _fucking_ records!”

Lance’s breath caught.  “Wait.  No one?  What about food and water?”

There was a silence.  “He was supposed to sleep-”

“Humans don’t do that!” Hunk let out, as close to a bellow as Shiro had ever heard him.  “You- are there lights in here?  You put him in a dark, silent room without food and water for _two days?”_

Two days?  It had been two days?

... Why was he listening to the hallucination?

“Let it be known, that only your ignorance to the depths of your stupidity is keeping us from all out war.  How _dare_ you treat a paladin of Voltron that way!”  Shiro had heard Allura mad before, but he didn’t think he’d heard that kind of upset.  With that tone, he honestly believed she could have declared war for this.

“Shiro?”  Lance again, closer, and Shiro hadn’t noticed him doing it, so he jolted. His voice sounded like it had cracks running through it, and it would shatter if Shiro pressed back. “Shiro, I’m going to touch you now, okay?  We need to see your arm.  What happened to you?”

And just like with Pidge, Shiro couldn’t resist that kind of pain directed at them.  Even when it wasn’t real, if he could do something about it, he would.  “I broke it,” he replied, soft. And even to his own ears he sounded more than a little unhinged.  “They were coming for it.”

Lance’s breath caught.  “Them?  Who’s them?”

“Druids,” Shiro admitted.

There was a pause.  “There were- on this planet?”

“No,” Pidge corrected, voice somewhere between dull and horrified.  “Sensory deprivation.  He was alone in a dark, quiet room for days.  He was probably hallucinating.  I... I don’t think there was anyone in here.”

“Then how did-?” Keith cut himself off as he realized what Pidge was implying.  “Oh.”

Hunk took a deep, wet sounding breath.  “We need to get him out of here first.  It’s been days.  He needs food and water.  Allura, the pods...?”

“They will help, but it may be more effective to treat it more conventionally,” Allura replied softly.  “For now, he needs to be moved.  Shiro, can you stand?”

Wordless, Shiro shook his head.  He didn’t look up, not wanting to see the looks he would get.

The lights dimmed as someone moved in front of him.  “I’m going to pick you up,” Allura told him plainly.  “Are you ready?”

Something about asking for his participation made Shiro look up.  The hallucinations hadn’t been big on his permission.

Was this...?

Shiro gave a tiny nod, and then arms wrapped around his back and under his knees, heaving him up into someone’s chest, the contact nearly too hot to be comfortable.  The pull made his arm ache, and he wrapped it closer to his chest for protection.  But otherwise it was gentle.

Maybe...?

Then they stepped into the light and all of Shiro’s thoughts slipped away in favor of pressing his face into Allura’s shoulder to hide from the glare.  It hurt like being smacked in the eyes, and his entire head throbbed with it.

“Hunk, could you unclip my cloak, please,” Allura murmured.  There was the a quiet click, then something was draped over Allura’s shoulder and Shiro’s head, helping muffle the light.  It dimmed it and made the light blue, like the ones in the ship.

Maybe Shiro was really out.  Maybe his team had really come and gotten him.

And that was a warmth the remaining chill of the room couldn’t touch.

***

By the time they brought Shiro into what looked like a lounge, his eyes had adjusted and he was already pulling the fabric back off his face. After days of separation, the planet had taken on a surreal quality, and he found himself looking around with renewed, detached interest.

Shiro was settled into a chair, the cloak still loosely draped over him.  When Allura stepped back, Shiro started to pull it off to hand it back, but she shook her head.  “No, for now, please leave it.  Your skin temperature is well below your usual levels.”

“Oh.”  Shiro nodded slowly.  “Alright.”

He had no idea what to do with himself.  He was still so out of it, and with everyone in the room staring at him, he felt like he should be pulling himself together and being the leader they needed.

But Shiro could barely string his own thoughts together, much less reassure them.  Hell, he didn’t think he could stand on his own.

Shock, maybe.  Or his brain had just plain given up.

Hunk ducked back into the room, pulling off his headband to run a hand through his hair.  “Okay, I have them bringing something light and lots of liquids.  Someone should be here in a few minutes.”  He sat down heavily on another couch, eyes locked onto Shiro. Shiro looked away first.  “Hey.  You here with us?”

Hell no.  But that wasn’t the right answer, was it?

So Shiro nodded.  “Yes, sorry.”

Keith snorted.  When Shiro turned to look at him, he paused.  “C’mon, Shiro.  Even I know better than that.”

Irritation rose in him, a sudden well of emotions.  Bristling, Shiro frowned back.  “It’s the only answer you’re getting,” he replied, voice sharp.  “Now I want to know what happened.”  Speaking that much made his lips and tongue ache, but that didn’t matter.  What mattered was knowing exactly how he’d ended up in that damn room.

Allura set her shoulders like she was wearing armor, and the others shared a quick, uncomfortable look.

“Um,” Lance started.  “Well, there was a misunderstanding.  Apparently, one of the political leaders around here was killed really soon after we arrived. And the evidence... it kind of looked like...”

“You were an easy target,” Pidge interjected, voice dripping with venom.  “It looked like he’d been strangled, and he was a known patron of the gladiator system.  So the law enforcement came and took you while they investigated.”

Oh.  That was... not even on Shiro’s list of possible reasons.  “Then why-”

There was a knock on the door, and a nervous looking alien held out a platter with bowls, cups and a pitcher.  Keith stalked over and took it, his expression dark, and they let out a scared sounding chittering noise before fleeing.

“Keith,” Shiro muttered.  He was too tired for this, but he couldn’t help himself, either.  “Don’t.  Did they have anything to do with it?”

Openly gritting his teeth, Keith glared and placed the platter down on the table nearest to Shiro.  “Who knows?”  But he looked away at Shiro’s unimpressed expression.  “Look, just drink, will you?  You need it.”  He poured a cup of what looked like just water, then handed it over.

Shiro took it cautiously with his natural hand.  The glass shook, and the weight of it made his arm sag, but he was able to hold it steady enough to bring it to his mouth.  He sipped cautiously, holding it in his mouth to help it absorb a little better, then swallowed.

Ugh.  Okay, when he got back to the castle, he really needed to brush his teeth and wash out his mouth.  Old blood.  Ew.

“So, I was accused and put in the cell to wait.”  Shiro closed his eyes, thinking.  “And they- they thought I would just sleep?  Or...?”  Had that part actually happened?  Or had that been a hallucination as well?

“Seems so,” Lance replied.  “Sounds like they can just... curl up in the dark and wake up when they’re needed.  And they didn’t think about what would happen to another species. So you were just...”  He clenched his fists into the fabric of his jeans, making it strain.

Honestly, that explained a lot.  Shiro had been so confused why they were killing him that way.  The fact that it was an accident and he was just lost in the shuffle was a new kind of horror, but at least it wasn’t actively murderous.

...Which was proof enough that Shiro’s mental measure of acceptability was skewed beyond all hope.

Once Shiro was done sipping, Hunk took the cup, so gentle and wide-eyed that Shiro didn’t have the heart to wave him off.  Then he sat on the armrest of the chair and helped hold the bowl of what was hopefully broth, so Shiro could try and use the spoon.

It didn’t work out very well.  Groaning, Shiro shook his head.  “I’m alright for food, it’s the water I need more of.  We’ll worry about that for now.”

“You sure?” Hunk asked, looking him up and down.  When Shiro nodded, he sighed.  “Okay, here.”  He filled the glass again, then nodded to Lance.  “Okay, and after you were taken, we started yelling at everyone who would listen to us.  And most people who wouldn’t.  And eventually we found out what you were accused of, and started to look into it ourselves.”

Pidge nodded, pulling off her glasses and absently cleaning them on her shirt.  “It wasn’t hard to figure out. Everything against you was circumstantial.  I don’t think it was a frame job so much as it was just convenient to blame you. But once we were able to find out more, we could prove your alibi.  The problem was getting anyone to talk about it.”

“They were covering it up,” Keith muttered.

Allura tilted her head diplomatically, which meant she agreed but didn’t want to say it.  “They were reluctant to believe it was anyone internal,” she supplied.  “It was easier to believe the outsider had been responsible, so they were protective of that.  And thus it was difficult to get information, and then to convince them to release you.  Which is why it took so long.”  She watched him sadly, shoulders uncharacteristically slack.  “If we’d known about the conditions, we wouldn’t have let it take that long.”

“That’s not your fault,” Shiro replied.  “You did what you could.”

“Not before-” Pidge cut herself off, biting her bottom lip.  But the way she eyed his right arm, even covered by the cloak, was pretty clear.

Now that Shiro was more aware, embarrassment started to trickle in.  When had he gotten so pathetic?  He curled in on himself, like he was trying to hide his arm further from their view.

Allura walked over, hand on the back of the chair.  “We do not judge you for your reactions, Shiro.  I’m sure you had reasons.  But we need to see the damage done to work to repair it.”

Unable to help it, Shiro snorted.  Yeah, reasons.  Sure.  But as much as he didn’t want them to get the full picture of how much he’d lost his mind, he couldn’t hide it forever.  So he sighed and pushed down the cloak, then used his natural hand to pull the unresponsive, heavy metal out.

There was more than one gasp and hissed breath, and Shiro couldn’t really blame them.

The damage was much worse in the light.

At the time, he’d only been viciously happy at the destruction, but now it made Shiro a little sick to look at.  Most of the fingers had broken off, except for the thumb, which was jammed into the palm and then bent at an angle that would be horrific on a flesh and blood hand.  The cracks in the casing were more open and deeper than he’d originally thought, and now he wasn’t surprised he could stick his fingers inside and touch nerves.  If he was inclined, Shiro could have fit a pencil clean through from one side to the other.  The pseudo-organic look of the inner workings were on open display, making the whole thing more disgusting than it had any right to be.

But what he’d totally missed was the way it had bucked right at the point it was grafted to his skin.  The area was red and swollen, with nasty, dirty cuts where shifting must have punctured skin and he hadn’t noticed on the ground.

No wonder it hurt like hell.

“Oh my god,” Hunk murmured, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. He reached out with the other, tracing a thumb over where it buckled right below his elbow, then pressed it, trying to turn it so it faced the light.

And despite how gentle and careful the touch was, Hunk didn’t know what was exposed.  So he did no damage to the broken arm, but his finger brushed against wherever Shiro’s nerve was.

Shiro _screamed_.

Yanking himself back, Hunk’s eyes widened, and he paled like Shiro was a bomb that had gone off in front of his face.  “I’m sorry!  I’m so sorry, I didn’t- what did I do?”

Pidge swallowed.  “There’s... something’s _exposed_ in there, isn’t it?”  She met Shiro’s gaze, her eyes wide with horror.  “It’s connected to you, and now it’s...”  She cut herself off, looking sick to her stomach.

The combined weight of their disgust was too much to keep looking at.  Shiro ducked his head, eyes burning with tears he couldn’t produce, and wished he’d ignored them and kept the cloak on.  It would have been better for him to keep it to himself and fix it as much as he could, rather than have them see how twisted and broken and messed up he was.

Then again, Shiro had no idea how to go about fixing something like this.  Minor repairs he could do, but even for something as basic as opening the arm up and cleaning it out, Shiro usually went to someone else.

Just one of the many ways he was more of a burden than a leader.

Taking a deep, watery sounding sigh, Shiro used his working hard to reach up and push his bangs out of his face, and took controlled breaths.  He’d never asked Lance about it, after that first time he’d been walked through breathing exercises, but Shiro remembered.  In for 6, out for 8.  Or something like that.  Shiro imagined the actual count was less important than keeping it slow and steady.  

It finally registered that the room was still silent, and Shiro’s shoulders tensed farther.  They were probably waiting on him to say something, to fix this and act like an actual goddamn leader, but he had nothing for them.

Shiro was...

He was empty.  He didn’t have anything left to offer.  He’d couldn’t keep being who they needed right now.

Shiro was just tired and ashamed and wanted to be left alone to lick his goddamn wounds.

It was Allura who eventually broke the moment.  “Shiro.  Can you please explain?  I hate to ask you, but I think if we know what happened we can understand better how to help you.”

Managing to bite off his snort, because the kind of help Shiro needed was beyond any of them, he nodded.  “Sensory deprivation in humans can cause hallucinations,” he told her, voice as steady and detached as the textbook of the mandatory psychology class from the Garrison.  “I’ve only read about it, but... Lack of stimulation makes the brain come up with its own signals, to make sure the senses are still working correctly.”  He snorted and shook his head.  “Of course, I wasn’t thinking about it then.  But after a while, it started to happen.  And I’m sure you can imagine what my mind came up with, considering.  Later, I was aware of how bad my condition was getting, and I assumed the room was a method of killing me.  And I thought that if I was going to die, I didn’t want Haggar or the other druids to get my arm.  Considering how badly they want it, it’s not something I wanted in their hands.  So I smashed it.”

Another moment of silence filled the room, until Allura bent down in front of the chair.  She rested her hand on Shiro’s left shoulder and squeezed.  “Considering your situation, it was a good call.”

Shiro froze, then his head whipped up to stare at her.  “What?”

“In the circumstances, given what you were seeing and what you knew, thinking you had been recaptured or would be was completely rational.  And making sure the Galra didn’t have access to your arm must have been a difficult decision, but not one I disapprove of.  Obviously, what you thought doesn’t match up with what happened, but we can make this right for you.  It was a smart call, Shiro.  Well done.”

To his horror, Shiro’s eyes went wet.  

It was just... it was so damn nice to hear that he’d made the right call.  Shiro made so many decisions, and usually he shouldered the consequences and moved on as best he could.  That was part of what it meant to be a commanding officer.  He didn’t think he’d had someone to look up to and congratulate him on a call that didn’t involve the gladiator ring since Commander Holt.

And it was a relief, to have something that felt like a stupid mistake validated.

Shiro nodded and closed his eyes tightly, determined not to cry in front of Allura if he could help it, and if he even had enough liquid in him to cry.  Because even if the lion had chosen him, he still piloted the black lion on her command, and he was desperate to keep her from thinking he was anything less than what the Black Paladin should be.

Not that he was going to be flying anytime soon.

The thought sent a new spike of pain through his chest and he clenched his working hand tightly, fighting off another wave of possible tears.

Luckily, Allura didn’t seem to need more from him, because she just squeezed then backed up, giving him space.

Someone made a choked noise, and before Shiro could get himself under control enough to look, Hunk spoke.  “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Lance replied, voice just as watery and rough as Shiro’s felt.  “I’m good, sorry.  I just thought...”  He glanced at Shiro, then away.  “You were hallucinating and trapped in there and I thought you might have done that because you were.. .you were trying to get out.”  He scrubbed over his eyes and took a deep breath.  “It still _sucks,_ but at least you... you did it on purpose, I guess.  You made the call to do it.  Not that you were scared and no one was helping.”

Shiro’s mouth fell open.  “Oh, no.  No, it wasn’t like that.”  That made so much sense, and he could easily follow the logic that led Lance there.  His heart clenched at Lance’s pained expression.  “I’m sorry.  No, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Keith shot back.  “You were still in there for days.”  He took the glass of water and topped it off, then pressed it back into Shiro’s hand.  

Sipping obediently, Shiro looked them all over.  “I’m out now,” he told them, half for his own benefit.  “I’m out, and I’ll be okay.”  But then he glanced down at his arm, shaking his head in disbelief at his own words.  “Well, I’ll be okay when we can get this fixed again.  I’m pretty much dead weight until then.”

“No, you’re not,” Pidge told him sharply.  She met his gaze aggressively, her eyes alight.  But she deflated as she looked at his arm again.  “And that might... it’s not going to be an immediate fix.  We should go get all the pieces we can.  They kind of got... left.”

Pidge didn’t mention the obvious: That they were so warped and ruined that they probably weren’t worth getting in the first place, which was why no one had bothered.

Standing, Allura nodded.  “I’ll go speak with Coran.  He’ll have the best knowledge of what to do here.”  Pidge and Hunk both nodded in agreement, and Allura gave them all a last smile before walking out, already murmuring a summons to Coran.

Watching her go, Hunk sighed.  “Yeah, we should get the pieces as soon as possible.  If nothing else, they’re not something we should leave lying around, I think.  And we’ll be able to work with the arm better if we have more samples to copy.”  He stood, and walked through the room, taking a box off the counter and emptying it out, probably to hold the pieces in.  “Someone want to help?”

“I will,” Lance offered, standing as well.  “It’ll go faster with extra hands.”  He took a step closer to Shiro, then hesitated.  “Will it hurt you to be hugged?”

Shiro considered.  “Not if you’re careful of the arm.”

“Good.”  Then Lance leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulder, so gentle he barely applied any pressure.  But the press of his skin against Shiro’s was startling, both because of his chilled skin and because of the sheer feel.  It had been two days of nothing but cold air and the floor and...

Well, Shiro wouldn’t be surprised if he was a little touch starved.

Well, tough shit.  Shiro would adjust eventually.  He wasn’t going to make someone deal with him right now, and he definitely didn’t have the energy to pretend to be together.

He patted Lance on the arm when he pulled back, and offered the best smile he could manage.  Shiro knew it was too thin and patchwork to be remotely convincing, but Lance shot him one back.

Once Hunk and Lance headed out, already discussing how to use the lights on their armor to help illuminate the room and find all the parts, Shiro closed his eyes.  “You two don’t have to hang around either.  I’ll be fine on my own.”

Keith eyed him.  “Do you want us to go?” he asked bluntly.  “Because we can be somewhere else if you do, but I want to stay here.” He glanced at Pidge, considering, then nodded.  “And Pidge does too.”

Letting out a gust of breath, Shiro looked away.  “I’m not going to be very comforting.”

Pidge just snorted.  “Good, ‘cause we both suck at that too.”  She nodded to Keith, who inclined his head in agreement.  “We get that you’re upset, Shiro.  You don’t have to pretend to be calm right now.  It’s honestly kind of eerie.  I think we were all expecting a big reaction.”

At first, Shiro only snorted.  Sorry to disappoint.  But then what they were saying registered, and he frowned.  “I shouldn’t-”

“Shiro,” Keith interrupted.  “I remember that time you thought you failed a test and freaked out for, like, an hour.  You’re not going to scare me by being upset.”

Shaking her head in amusement, Pidge got up and rummaged through the room.  “And you know that my dad and brother both snore like lawnmowers.  It’s a little late for professional distance.  Seriously, it’s just us, and we don’t care.  You can react.”  Finally, she pulled out an actual blanket from one of the chests, then handed it to Shiro with her head tilted in question.  He gave her a thin smile, then took it and wrapped it around himself, despite his broken arm.

“I’m surprised you remember that,” Shiro muttered, eyeing Keith fondly.  He pulled the blanket up higher, past his shoulder until it draped over the middle of his head, his bangs and face sticking out but otherwise covered.

Keith just rolled his eyes.  “You told me your life was over and made me promise to never waste my potential like you did.  Yeah, I remember.”

Smiling, if a bit reluctantly, Shiro nodded.  “Okay, yeah.  That might stick.”

Shrugging, Keith sat down in another chair.  “Yeah, well, I thought about it when you were gone and I got kicked out.  Figured you’d be mad.”

Shiro’s heart clenched, and he glanced over at Keith.  “No, I’m not.  I would have been mad at the Garrison for kicking you out, actually.  And you didn’t waste anything.  You’re a defender of the universe.  That’s way beyond my expectations.”

Pidge sat down as well, and tilted her head.  “So are you.”

Dammit.  Both of them were usually the ones who didn’t do the emotional confrontations.  But it seemed like Shiro was one of their mutual exceptions.  “Doesn’t feel like it, most days.”

“None of us feel like it,” Pidge pointed out.  “We all screw up and get things wrong and get out by the skin of our teeth.  None of us were prepared for it.”

Shiro shook his head and stared at his lap rather than look at either of them.  “But I’m supposed to be the leader.  Calm and with the right plan.”

Leaning back in his chair, Keith frowned.  “That doesn’t mean-  That doesn’t mean you have to be perfect all the time.  I’m pretty sure being the Black Paladin doesn’t mean you can’t be human.”  Then he paused.  “Metaphorically.”

“But that’s what you all deserve,” Shiro admitted quietly.  “You deserve the commander I had, who you could trust for advice and to get you through this.  Someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Pidge curled up tightly on the couch, knees to her chest.  “Look.  I appreciate the thought, but... If my dad heard you deifying him and using that to bring yourself down, he’d be furious.”

The logic of that made Shiro freeze.  He slumped further in on himself, tugging the blanket farther until it slid off his head and hid his eyes, so he couldn’t see them.  “I just-”

“Shiro,” Keith interrupted, suddenly closer.  He put his hand on Shiro’s shoulder, heavy and solid.  “You do enough.  You do right by us.  It’s _okay._  We don’t need you perfect.  We just need you here.  So stop- Stop acting like you’re betraying us.  Just let go and trust us.”

A shudder ran through Shiro like an electric shock, leaving him aching and too sensitive in its wake.  He tried to open his mouth to respond, but the noise that came out was choked and watery.

Finally, Shiro collapsed in on himself, shattered just like his arm.  The blanket gave just enough separation, the childish thought that since he couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see him.  And that was enough.

Shiro didn’t really cry.  Not technically.  A tear or two squeezed out, but after that he was too dry.  But each breath stuttered and caught in his throat, and he shook like he was back in the room and still freezing.

Neither of them touched him or tried to speak with him.  And Shiro was absurdly grateful for it.  He wasn’t reminded of being the leader, of the fact that he should be in control and calm. Right now, he didn’t have to be the Black Paladin.  He could just react.

Eventually, Shiro started to calm.  His breath evened out, and he was able to wipe the few spilled tears off his cheeks.  After a few deep breaths, he sat up again and pulled the blanket away from his eyes.

It was still only Pidge and Keith in the room.  They’d retreated a little further away, both bent over the pad in Pidge’s lap and murmuring over it.  “What about doors?  Will that still work?”  Keith asked.

Pidge hummed thoughtfully.  “The mechanics for it are mostly in the palm.  It might still be intact.  We’ll have to see.”  She glanced up and, noticing Shiro gaze, nodded to the table in front of him.  The glass of water was full again.  Nodding, Shiro reached out to grab it, then started to sip again.  He’d lost water he couldn’t afford with that short breakdown.

Shiro wasn’t sure he felt better for it.  Everyone acted like finally giving into emotions was supposed to be some huge relief.  It just left him feeling stuffy and self-conscious.  But maybe this little venting would let him get through the next few hours.

Once Shiro had taken at least a few mouthfuls, Keith focused on the pad again.  “I know it’s not a priority, but it is useful.  Probably better to try.”

“Agreed,” Pidge replied.  “I was actually thinking we might be able to add some extra functionality.  We can customize it better now.”

Keith hummed thoughtfully.  “Shiro?” He called.  “Would a magnetic palm help or hurt your weird gymnastics wall climbing?”

Blinking slowly at the question, Shiro considered.  “If it turned off and on easily, it’d probably be more helpful than not.  You’re...?”

“We’re going to have to build a lot of stuff with your arm no matter what,” Pidge told him bluntly.  Before he could do more than wince, she barreled on.  “So might as well make some improvements.  I imagine Altean medical technology is probably above Galran, considering.  So make it work a bit better for you.  And we know what you can do better than them.”

It was said so matter-of-factly that Shiro paused.  Did they?  The Druids had seen him fight so much.  But they hadn’t seen much outside of the ring, had they?  Hmm.

“Any suggestions?”  Keith asked.

Shiro worked the fingers of his natural hand, considering.  “If it’s possible, making it easier to clean off?  Getting in there and cleaning it out was always complicated.”

Humming, Pidge tilted her head, then nodded.  “True.  I’ll talk to Hunk about that, he’ll have a better idea.  But good point.  I wasn’t thinking about the day to day stuff.”  

Somehow, talking about the logistics and the improvements was helping.  It made Shiro feel like it was a minor bump, and they’d all be better off after, rather than an incredibly stupid thing to do.

There was a knock on the doorframe, and Coran stepped in.  “Ah, good to see you again, Shiro.  We were quite worried.  Hear you had some problems with your arm?”

Shiro opened his mouth to respond, but he just didn’t have the words at the moment.  So he sighed and uncovered his right arm, letting Coran see.

Kneeling in front of him, Coran clicked his tongue.  “You did quite a number on it.  Allura told me it was to prevent the Galra from getting it again?  Smart thinking, and well done.”

Swallowing hard, Shiro only nodded in response.  

Luckily, Coran continued on, not seeming to need a reply.  “Hunk and Lance already brought up everything they could find.  Let’s go ahead and get this patched up for now, shall we?  Can you walk?”  As he wrapped his arms around Shiro’s back, helping to hold his weight, he nodded to Keith.  “Bring the water with you?  All things considered, I think they can handle being down a couple of glasses and a pitcher.”  

The dark tone was surprisingly comforting.  Shiro was so used to Coran being lighthearted that having him out-and-out angry on Shiro’s behalf was... it was nice.

“Now, let’s go get you fixed up.”

Ducking his head, Shiro nodded.  “Okay.”

***

In the end, the only thing they could do that day was to take off as much of Shiro’s arm as they could, then put some basic casing around bits still attached to keep the parts that were organic from being completely exposed.  It was more than a little disgusting to think about, and Shiro was frankly glad he’d been sedated for it.

After, they’d discovered his room was a bad idea.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Shiro’s heart started to thud in his chest.  His room was bigger than the cell had been, but not by much.  And it was lit by the blue lines that ran through the castle, but there were no windows.

For a moment, Shiro stood in place, trying to convince himself to deal with it.

Then he shook his head and turned around, opening the door back up and walking right back out.

Instead, Shiro ended up in the rec room.  It was large, and the doors there were always open.  It soothed the way the walls felt too close, and the ceiling too low.  And he could listen to the noises of the castle and to someone occasionally walking by.  Technically he could use the screens to watch a movie, if need be, but he always felt bad watching it without the others.

And Shiro wanted to be alone.  Even if he wasn’t crying anymore, he needed some time to settle his brain.  It might have helped to have someone else around for the haunting sense that any room could become _that_ room. But he could still hear them, walking and speaking and just being nearby.  Even if everyone else didn’t agree that Shiro should have his shit together, it wasn’t easily shaken in his own head.  So it was easier to not have an audience.

However, he did get keep getting visitors.

First were Coran and Allura, who presented him with his own pad, now modified.  “This program can control any lights in the castle,” Coran told Shiro, patting his shoulder.  “It will override the day-night cycles.  So if you need the room brighter to be comfortable, but not so bright you can’t sleep, this should help.”

Staring down at it, Shiro tapped the program, then dragged his finger up.  Immediately, the lights of the rec room brightened, and then dimmed when he pulled them back down.  “Thank you,” he told them, chest tight with emotion.

“No problem at all.  Let us know if you need anything else.”  Allura considered the room.  “If you’d like to move quarters, that can be arranged.”

Shiro winced, because he wasn’t fond of being that transparent.  But he shook his head.  “It’ll just be for a day or so.  It helps to hear everyone walking around.”

Nodding, Allura patted his shoulder as well.  “Alright.  Call us for anything you need.”  And with that, they let him be.

But of course that didn’t last long.

Hunk and Pidge came in next.  Shiro tilted his head, watching as Pidge set up some kind of device on the table.  But then Hunk handed something over, and Shiro took it curiously, head tilted.  It looked like an all grey rubix cube in how it seemed to be able to twist and turn, but there were extra buttons and knobs on the side.

Hunk sat down on the arm rest.  “I thought this might help.  I built one of these for myself when I started at the Galaxy Garrison.  Not as fancy as this, of course, but...  It’s something to fiddle with.  Gears and flips and switches.  It’s distracting, when my brain won’t shut up.”

Glancing down at it, Shiro spent a moment figuring out how it all worked.  “That’s brilliant, Hunk.”

“Thanks,” Hunk replied, cheeks pink and eyes bright from the compliment.  “I thought it’d help to have something to touch, you know?”

Before Shiro could do more than nod, Pidge clicked on her device.  Music started to play, soft and gentle.  “There we go!  I looked through the files for whatever we have.  There’s the music we brought with us, and the Alteans had... I think it’s singing.  There’s a rhythm.  Um, if you turn off this-” she pressed a button on the side, and Shiro stopped being able to understand the words.  Instead, he could just hear the melodic syllables.  “That turns off the translation program. It sounds better that way, I think.  You can hear the rhyme scheme.  Translated music really doesn’t work well.  What do you think?”

They both watched him, eyes bright and hopeful, and it occurred to Shiro what they were doing.

Even without them in the room, they were engaging his senses.  Allura and Coran had tackled sight, and now this was touch and sound.

“Thank you,” Shiro told them both, feeling it deep in his chest.  “I appreciate it a lot.”

“No problem,” Hunk told him, smiling softly.  “Just feel better.  We’re going to go talk to Coran about your arm.  So if you need us, you can call for him too.”

Nodding, Shiro smiled and bent over Hunk’s device, spinning one of the discs.  “I will.  Thanks.”

There was a quiet noise, and then thin arms wrapped around his shoulders, just for a second.  Pidge pulled back, then moved out of the way so Hunk could do the same.

Shiro was still smiling softly when they left.

After that, he went about an hour before Lance and Keith showed up.

Keith just nodded to him and placed some kind of heavy looking cube at the base of the couch.  Pulling out something small and square, Lance handed it over.  “Everyone else was already by, right?  Good, okay.  Well, I wanted to make sure you weren’t bored while you waited.  So, cards.”  He nodded at it until Shiro picked it up, and saw it was a deck.  “If you want to play a game with us later, let us know, but I figured at least solitaire was a good way to pass the time.  And these are the reinforced cards, so when we get your arm patched up, you’ll be able to work with them without worrying.”

Trust Lance to think of entertainment.  But Shiro appreciated that, because it meant one more thing to keep his brain from backsliding.  And it was forward thinking.  Cards would be a good way of testing his dexterity with the arm later.  

“Good idea,” Shiro told him, and smiled when Lance beamed and nodded, lips curled up proudly.  “You guys looking to play poker again?”

“Fine with me,” Lance replied, snorting.  “I’m gunna be dealer again.  No way am I playing against any of you.  Especially Keith.”

“Why especially me?”  Keith shot back, looking up.  “I don’t cheat like Pidge.”

Shiro’s lips curled up.  “You’re a little hard to play against, Keith.”

Lips twisting, Keith sighed.  “I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“Kind of the problem.  Half of it, anyway.”  Lance shook his head.  “You need help?”

“No, I’m done.”  Keith sighed and stood up, clapping his hands together.  “It’s just a heater.  You need to stay warm after that room, and the blanket might not be enough.”

And trust Keith to think of survival logistics.  Lips pulled up fondly, Shiro nodded.  “Thanks.”

Lance patted his head, ruffling Shiro’s bangs like he was fond of doing to them.  “No problem.  Give a shout if you need anything.”

At this point, Shiro was going to have no idea who to actually contact if something did come up.

And that was... oddly nice.  Even before everything, Shiro hadn’t had many people he could rely on when things got tough.

“I will,” he promised, and with a quick flash of a hug from Lance, and a gentle hand on his knee from Keith, they were both gone, and Shiro was left to his own devices.

Laying back on the couch, he let out a low sigh.

They were a bit much to deal with.  But damn if Shiro didn’t love each and every one of them.

And damn if they didn’t love him back.  It was hard to think otherwise, surrounded by gifts, all with the goal of making him feel better.

Warm and surrounded by light and noise, Shiro was finally able to close his eyes and relax.  It would probably be awhile until he was settled and able to deal with his room again, and longer until he could deal with the dark.

But for now, he didn’t need to be there.  He could just be around, and that was enough.

For today, Shiro could live with that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Possible sequel ahead, stay tuned.
> 
> Remember, you can follow me on tumblr at Bosstoaster.tumblr.com


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